Rage
by Annamonk
Summary: This is what happens when I rearrange my poetry shelves. It's fairly accessible. I didn't drag out some obscure Spenserian reference. My muse is possessed of a most fickle nature. Hope you like it. Not my sandbox, just playing.
1. Chapter 1

The tingle of disinfectant spells brushed along his magic as he stared down at his father. The room was stark white and well lit. It was not the most flattering of light. The pale trace of veins were clearly visible under his father's skin. The scars that traced along his body disappeared under the repugnant hospital robe. He considered casting a glamour to preserve his father's dignity, but was there any left to save?

Draco turned his head toward the door when it opened. He recognized the cadence of the healer's walk. Odd then that the man's name escaped him.

It didn't matter of course. The wizard was here only to inform him of his soon to orphan status. Perhaps, it was best to continue on in ignorance.

"Can we wake him?" Draco turned toward the flash of green robes in his peripheral vision.

"It's better to leave him in this state." The healer looked at Draco with sympathy. "This is a blessing. The pain is excruciating when the affected ones are awakened."

"My father can stand the pain." Draco crossed his arms across his chest. How pretty the term affected ones. How clean. He felt his lip curl.

"Another patient bashed his head against the wall and broke through his skull." The healer met Draco's gaze steadily. "He died in a matter of minutes. There was nothing we could do."

"It's that bad?" Draco let his arms fall to his side. He'd hoped Dolohov's death had been an aberration.

"I've worked with curses most of my life." The healer glanced down at his hands. "I've never seen anything this vicious before."

"Why am I unaffected?" Draco rubbed his arm where the faded mark rode his skin.

"You're bonded to Miss Greengrass. I know the marriage is still a ways off, but the bond is sealed. It negates the curse." The healer sighed. "We think the lingering remnants of the bond with your mother sustained him for those few weeks after.

I am sorry for your loss."

Draco nodded. It was an automatic response at this point. He didn't dwell on the memory of his mother's death. It served no purpose to expose his grief so publicly. There had been enough of that at the trial.

"So being bonded to another might help?" Draco glanced at the healer.

"It might." The healer looked at the chart with tired eyes. "Is there a witch in his life?"

Draco looked at his father and considered his options. His father had been a loyal husband. There were any number of women that would commit to him for funds, but such relationships rarely formed an appropriate bond.

"There's a life debt owed him by a witch." Draco suppressed the twitch that came when he thought of the female in question. "Would it be enough?"

"The bond might form, but it is the barest of chances." The healer looked at Draco with the tiniest spark of interest in his eyes and a practiced, concerned mien. "The witch would need to be powerful, very powerful."

* * *

Draco marched along next to the headmistress. She looked her four self in robes of black and tartan. He wasted no effort in trying to charm her. There was no point.

"I will warn you, Mr. Malfoy, she's been a bit irritable lately." Minerva McGonagle smirked. "The construction wizards steer well clear of her. The centaurs have taken to leaving their mares and foals near her home because the acromantula are terrified."

"I'm sure she's quite the delight." Draco managed not to roll his eyes. "I still have a need to speak with her."

"Don't mock her quarters." The older witch's eyes narrowed. "She has wild flares of magic that can be quite destructive, so she's back to living in a tent."

"A tent?" Draco's steps faltered.

"She warded it before the war." Minerva sighed. "It will contain just about anything, but her condition became known to the governors. They banned her from being in any building without supervision during the rebuilding."

"And after?" Draco took in the forming of his old professor's jaw.

"She's not allowed on the grounds when students are in residence." The headmistress' eyes gave her away. Draco pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "She will be fine. She's resourceful."

Draco nodded, but he considered the witch in question for the first time as they resumed walking.

Hermione Granger was the third member of the Golden Trio. She should have been the wizarding world's darling, but she had ducked out of the spotlight. Potter and Weasley were beloved by all, but Granger wasn't feted or adored. She was the representative for the collective guilt. It was easier to look away, so the wizarding world did as it always did. It went the easy route.

"Why doesn't she seek help for the flares?" Draco wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but he had to know.

"She's a natural occlumens." McGonagle sighed. "The events of the war made those shields permanent. The healers can't breach them to help with the trauma. She has to heal on her own. Please, don't hurt her."

Draco nodded and ignored the ghosts of Granger's screams in his head. Guilt was a powerful weapon. He should have expected the ploy. The crafty old cat had given him far too much information. She'd wanted to prick his sympathy and his guilt.

That it had worked, made no difference.

He had to save his father.

"Why hasn't she married?" The bonds would help manage the flares.

"She needs a wizard with a complimentary power." The headmistress shrugged. "None of ours were a match and only a few were powerful enough to match her levels."

Draco nodded even as he considered all the information.

"You're a great deal like Severus was." McGonagle looked at him closely. "Try to live up to that."

* * *

Draco stared at the closed door. Four days ago, he'd watched as the healer explained the situation to Hermione. His initial attempt to treat her as a simpleton had fallen away. She focused her fierce intellect on the problem, and determined that despite their weak compatibility, a bond between them could benefit them both.

She took two days to research bonding ceremonies.

The research was fastidious and painstaking. He felt a surge of guilt. He'd thought a minor promissory bond would be enough, but she'd dismissed that idea. The life debt would have been much the same. Neither was enough. She'd studied the curse. She'd studied him. She'd dragged Astoria in and examined them together.

The minor army of curse breakers and healers that had examined the research at the Ministry's insistence had all looked at her afterwards with avarice glowing in their eyes. Her brilliance hadn't surprised him. Her dedication to making a success of this insanity,on the other hand, had. Quips about doing things well had merely confused the issue further for him.

"She's a force of nature." Potter walked up beside him and broke his reverie. "Your father will be fine."

"I know." Draco nodded. "I expected you to pitch a fit."

"No point." Potter shook his head. "She isn't like most gryffs. She researches and plans. She considers every detail. Then she whips out her wand and changes the world. I might have fought her if she hadn't put enough thought into or, but this will help her, too. It was explained to me in detail."

Draco nodded. He didn't want to explore the inner workings of The Golden Trio. He wanted his father to emerge from the room. He rolled his shoulders back.

"It's awkward standing out here." Harry shifted from foot to foot.

"Knowing they're consummating this bond?" Draco enjoyed the obvious nausea that caused his former rival.

"She owed your family a debt, so did I." Potter looked at him and his general affability fell away. Draco frowned at the warrior before him. "But I owe her a thousand debts. Once Ron gets over his snit, he'll remember that he does, too. Keep her safe. Treat her well."

"Of course." Draco nodded. He was rather surprised Potter managed to contain himself and leave the threats undefined.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note_**

 _My plot bunny hutch is at maximum capacity. This story was sitting there. I was unable to abandon it or break it apart for ingredients in other stories. I enjoyed writing it, but this chapter was always keeping it from being posted._

 _This update has a few dark moments. It doesn't dwell or even linger over them, but they are necessary for the story. I don't usually post warnings or notes at the top of a chapter, but this might be difficult for some readers._

 _I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading._

 _-Anna_

* * *

Lucius woke up and fought the urge to scream. He clenched his jaw tightly and tried to focus. The cruciatus had a rhythm if you could find it, find the pattern and you could survive. He felt his muscles shake and contract. The haze descended. He thrashed. He heard the the screams and knew on some level they were his.

Focus. He needed to focus.

Narcissa.

Her long body sprawled across their bed with nothing but the peacock pearls on.

Her lips caught up in a genuine smile as Draco toddled toward her across the Aubusson rug.

Her eyes like dark rain clouds as she looked up at him in their most intimate moments.

Then a hand touched him and the pain ebbed enough for the haze to clear.

He turned to see her, but it wasn't his wife. It was the girl. Potter's weapon of choice, she was deadly beyond any of the Order. Smarter. Darker.

Capable of standing when others would crumble.

Her eyes were like amber gems. Warm in color, but the life was gone.

He needed to focus.

The healer was babbling about curses laced into the dark mark. Of course the bastard had left his followers a gift. Why were any of them surprised.

Pain.

Yes.

Death.

Soon.

It all made sense.

None of it mattered.

Narcissa was gone. He had gotten there in time to say his goodbyes, but he hadn't been quick enough to save her. His ability to give a damn had faded with the light in her eyes.

He glanced toward the mousy girl with her hair tied up in an atrocious ball on the back of her head. He frowned. She wasn't a girl anymore. The war had taken the child out of her. It had been a woman holding his Narcissa up as she'd battled toward the floo, a valiant effort to save his heart.

He remembered the trial. He remembered watching this witch save his beloved from rape at the hands of a werewolf with a simple alchemical spell. She'd turned the bastard's blood to silver with a simple word and the flick of her fingers.

There had been no guilt or horror as the creature flailed in agony.

Wandless, she'd taken down three more of his former brethren before she'd come up against Rabastan.

Narcissa had begged her to flee, to live, to abandon her. She hadn't. They'd both been so badly destroyed. Their path was measured in a red swath of blood. The green rush of the fire that had sent him into the room came with no cry of victory.

Rabastan had died, but he'd accomplished his goal.

The women were tangled together on the floor, too weak to move.

He'd ignored the girl and landed on his knees beside his wife. He'd have changed the outcome if it had been in the scope of his abilities. Traded the the life he'd saved for his wife's.

He pushed the memory down.

The doctor was gesturing.

Then her voice cut in below the whine of pain.

He listened to her babble. Their mutual debts were already a form of bond. The pain would return. Death would follow.

He nodded.

Death seemed a good option.

"Draco needs you." It was her voice, but his wife's words.

He looked at the woman and saw the sadness in her as well. It wouldn't be a joyous union. It didn't matter.

He'd made a promise to his wife, to the flower of his life.

He'd do what was needed to keep it.

The healer had called for his son and the Potter boy to witness. The spell was done by the hospital's officiant. It was all efficient. Efficiency was something he could admire.

The small crowd had fled and he pushed her back onto the bed. Consummation. Finishing the spell.

"I have to do this." He clenched his teeth. "We have to do this."

She nodded and yanked her shift up. She'd worn nothing underneath. Traditional. The spell had been one of the oldest bindings. His hospital gown was not the normal attire, but it left him in the same state. He crawled on the bed and turned his head away from her. He didn't want to see her wild hair or her blushing cheeks. This was a requirement not a celebration. Closing his eyes, he fumbled about aligned himself and slammed into her. The hot tracks of his tears were the only thing he allowed his mind to focus on. He rutted on her until his body finished and the spell fixed itself within them.

He pulled away without looking and heard her small gasping breath. It wasn't much of a sound, but it drew his eyes. He saw the smears of blood on her thighs as she tried to cover herself.

There was no kindness nor mercy in the world. He clenched his fists. Her one and only time had been that. He hadn't even thought to ask.

He looked down at her tear stained face and shame flooded through him. He touched her shoulder before pulling her into his arms. She sobbed against his shoulder.

The tears were for her dying dreams. He knew how she felt. His were gone.

He rocked her gently. It was the least he could do. She had given him the ability to fulfill his promise to Narcissa.

* * *

Lucius watched his son pace. He let him fret and worry and ignored most of the ranting. He didn't have the ability or desire to explain the complicated emotional climate of his life to his son. He didn't want to talk about guilt and grief. He didn't want to discuss how much easier it was to not see the girl, to not think of those tears dampening his shoulder. He didn't want to think about her or acknowledge her. He didn't want there to be a her.

He wanted Narcissa.

He wanted his wife, his partner, his life.

"She's living in the garden?" Draco stared at him with that blank expression that was meant to conceal shock.

"She's set up a tent in the gazebo." Lucius sat at the dining table and waited for his son to follow suit. "The wards are quite extensive. The elves can't get in. It's made them rather cantankerous."

"She's living in the tent." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "What am I supposed to tell Potter?"

"She's settled in." Lucius sighed. They lived separately. He hadn't spoken with her since their first day at the Manor. He'd ignored her the few times he'd caught sight of her. It made everything easier.

He took a deep breath and glanced at his son. Draco wasn't bothering to hide his displeasure. This was going to be an issue.

"She's living in the tent like a vagabond." Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "That is not settled in."

"She doesn't want to be in the house. She doesn't want to see me." Lucius leaned against the chair back. "The arrangement is functional."

"Pretending Granger doesn't exist isn't functional." Draco looked around the informal dining room. "She doesn't eat in the house either?"

"We do not share meals." Lucius sat back in his chair. He wanted to share a quiet meal with his son, but this conflict was not resolving. "I assume she eats in her own space."

"It's the middle of bloody winter." Draco cast a warming charm on himself and headed toward the French doors that lined the terrace. "He's got her living in a tent."

Lucius sighed and followed his son. The boy did know how to be dramatic. It must come from the Black side of his family.

"I stayed away for nearly a month. I've kept all her awful friends at bay." Draco shook his head. "I knew it wouldn't be a honeymoon, but I thought you might make some sort of effort."

"The proximity keeps us both alive and well. We do not need to socialize." Lucius looked down at the gravel path. It sparkled with frost. "It is enough."

"It isn't right." Draco slowed his strides. "She should be comfortable. She should have a place. She tried to save Mum. She saved you. Ignoring that, she's connected to a plethora of powerful people. Leaving her out of doors like a naughty crup is not wise."

Lucius nodded. There was no point in arguing. Draco's concerns were legitimate.

They rounded the curve of the garden path and found her.

She was dressed in proper ritual robes and tending to a large cauldron. Several elves were arrayed on little seats around the fire. She appeared every inch the enchantress.

His son stumbled to a stop.

Lucius hid his amusement behind a smirk. The boy had seen so much, but the oldest magics were something to behold. He glanced down at the walk again. Invading her space was rude.

"Draco." She smiled and waved with her free hand without missing a stroke of the spirtle with the other. "Lucius, come, transfigure a chair."

Draco blinked twice before falling in line with her wishes. Lucius sighed and tromped after his son, but his eyes studied her. The silver jewelry was not riding her body as adornment. These were pieces of power crafted for specific purposes. The runes glowed like gems. She was the maiden incarnate.

It was disconcerting.

"I need to finish this before the solstice." Hermione grinned at them as they both transfigured formal chairs. "It needs to rest before the elves can use it on the gardens."

"What are you doing?" Draco sniffed at the cauldron.

"I'm brewing a potion for the gardens." She removed the spirtle and hung it with her other tools on a rack near the cauldron. With a simple flick of her wrist, the vines behind her wove themselves into a swing.

He watched her sway gently as she watched them both from her perch. She was meeting the needs of the land as befit her nominal position. He locked eyes with her and felt a flash of regret.

"The mistress brewsing the potion and restoresing the land." One of the elves observed. "She bes working hard for the family. She is beings a good mistress, but she says no cleansing the tent."

Lucius watched all the elves ears droop at once. The creatures didn't know how to deal with her. He looked at her as she rocked on her swing and felt a certain sympathy for their plight.

"I would imagine, if you did an especially good job tidying the library, the new mistress would be pleased." Lucius smiled as the elves disappeared with rapid pops. "Are you well?"

"I am." She pursed her lips and glanced toward the house. "They won't work too hard, will they?"

"They're elves, Granger." Draco shook his head. "They want to work."

She shook her head and turned her focus away from his son.

"I take it our honeymoon has ended." She blushed. "May I use the library as a place to visit with my friends. They will annoy us until they're concerns for my welfare are assuaged. I've had no flares since coming here. I think the house would be safe."

"The house is capable of protecting itself." Lucius glanced toward the small tent set up in the gazebo. It looked too bedraggled to be of any real use. He felt an uncomfortable twist of guilt. "The east wing is yours to do with as you please."

* * *

Lucius looked over the medical records spread across his desk. He'd studied it all in detail. The assessments, the treatments, the scars were all chronicled in excruciating detail. He considered the oddity of it all. While their magic was compatible, they were not a perfect match.

Only a perfect match would have cured her, but the flares were gone.

He'd read the accounts of her condition. The wild surges of magic were well documented. He'd seen more than one person ripped apart by their own magic for his former master's pleasure. Torture a magical being enough and their control would break. Some lost their sanity, some lost their lives, and those rare few lost the ability to control that which made them special.

There was no question that Hermione Granger had been tortured. He'd watched it.

There was no question she had experienced magical flares. The documentation held proof.

Their connection kept the curse Riddle had woven into his mark from doing its worst. It was a simple matter of magical precedence. A mate bond was stronger than any other. It allowed for the maintenance of a home and the creation of a family. It was a choice made by two beings, thus it forged deep links in their magic.

Magical flares were caused by damage. The damage could be healed in most cases or a bond could be used to dissipate the extra power, a perfect bond.

They did not have a perfect bond.

It was enough to help, but not to cure.

They did not have a perfect bond.

He looked up and considered the information again, spinning it all through his mind, trying to find the common thread.

He stood and paced.

There was nothing. There was no explanation. He felt the surge in his own magic as it responded to his anxiety.

He straightened his office with a casual wave of his hand.

He sighed in relief.

He appreciated order.

He preferred organization to chaos.

He needed to understand his world and the things within it.

He clasped the edge of his desk with both hands. The wood was solid. It was strong. It was as it was meant to be.

He took a deep breath and glanced out the window.

Hermione was walking in the garden with a gaggle of redheads. The urge to hex them rose up from deep within him. It was instinct. His desire to protect her was instinct. He forced his body to relax. His urge to protect what was his retreated slowly.

They were bound.

She was his.

They did not have a perfect bond, but it was real.

It was real.


	3. Chapter 3

They'd invaded in drips and drabs. Some came from guilt and others from curiosity. The few that visited because they were driven by genuine feeling only made the whole experience worse. Watching their sad eyes assess her was offensive.

It had been her choice.

The flares were dangerous. Her magic had been loosed by that last curse of Rabastan's. The spells to fix the problem wouldn't work on her. the thing that had saved her from insanity doomed her to death. She'd done what she could. She'd accepted that her magic would kill her and tried to smile for everyone.

Then, Draco Malfoy, of all people, had come to her with an option.

It wasn't wonderful.

It wasn't perfect.

It was, however, a chance to live, a choice far more appealing than a slow death as her magic consumed her.

She'd expected a change in her friend's behavior, but none had come. They still sat there with pity in their eyes. There was nothing she could do or say to convince them that she was content. It was as if she'd been handed a different death sentence. She resented their long drawn out looks, their comforting pats. Their sympathy did nothing for her.

Not that there weren't days when she felt low. She'd cried a time or two. When her monthlies came as expected, she'd sobbed. It didn't make much sense to her logical mind, but some part of her had longed for a child. It was for the best. Lucius would not have been pleased. His grief was a palpable thing. No child should suffer one parent's desperation for love and the other's mourning of it. That wasn't healthy.

There would be no baby, so she poured her love into the land. The power in this place was immense. It radiated warmth and healing, but it had been neglected and abused. She'd studied the base rituals that were used to cleanse and fortify the land. She'd started small and discovered that she had many allies. The elves had been more than happy to help her. Gathering items she needed and offering up centuries of knowledge to her was nothing to them. Journals describing the duties performed by past mistresses found their way to her reading pile. The elves smiled at her and no longer reminded her that there would be no clothes giving. They patted her and called her a proper mistress.

She'd found a family of sorts with them.

Hermione dragged a breath in through her teeth. She had guests again. It was time for them to pat the poor dear on the hand and look at her with that deprecating sadness. She pushed open the door and noted the conversation taking place in her absence.

"You don't think he's hurting her, do you?" Ginny sounded more curious than concerned. "She never appears in public. He might be doing something to her. I think we should insist on some sort of inspections."

Hermione ignored the mumbling ascents and focused on the annoyed intake of breath from Harry.

"Gin, I know you don't like it." He audibly sighed and Hermione could picture him running his hand through the disarray that was his hair. "You've offered up your opinions again and again, but you need to stop. He's her husband. This can't be easy. He is still mourning Narcissa."

"So, Hermione has to stay here while he wallows?" Ginny's voice sharpened and moved up the scale toward shrill. "She should be living her life. She should be doing something great. She's a seriously powerful witch. I never pegged her for a stay at home, quiet, little house witch."

"It's not like she'd know the traditions." Ron was obviously stuffing his mouth with the treats the elves provided. "She wouldn't know that her husband has to introduce her to society after her marriage, so why is she hiding here? I mean it's silly, but traditional."

"Hermione probably does know the traditions." Harry sounded put upon.

She stepped closer. She felt no guilt in listening to them. It was rude, but so was talking about your hostess in such a manner.

"I really do think we should have her looked after in some official way. This situation is just too strange. Her here? Maybe her illness damaged her in some way." Ginny huffed. "We can't leave her to Malfoy mercy."

"Do you think Hermione would want aurors here, poking their noses into her life every week?" Harry was pacing. Hermione smiled at his metronomic pace. He always liked to move about when he was thinking. "This is her home."

"This isn't her real home. How could it be? She was tortured here." Ron sounded like his usual impatient self. "This place can't be good for her state of mind. Maybe Ginny's right."

Hermione didn't want to hear more about how she needed to be looked after. She stepped into their line of sight and cleared her throat. Ron and Ginny smiled widely, but she could see the falseness in it. Only Harry looked at her with any true understanding. She took a deep breath and walked toward them. This was her home and her family now. She wouldn't allow their nonsense to hurt Lucius or Draco.

"Tippy, Nippy, and Runt." She called the elves that had taken over her wing of the house and smiled as they popped in. "Please, show Mister and Miss Weasley outside the wards. They don't seem to understand how to be guests. Scheming to have aurors disturb my peace is not acceptable."

The elves popped away from her and appeared next to her guests. Their eyes fastened on her waiting for her nod of approval.

"Come on, Mione." Ron's cheek puffed out as the food he'd been eating filled it to allow him enough room for his words to escape. "We're concerned. If the shoe was on the other foot, wouldn't you be worried?"

"I would do you the courtesy of asking." Hermione frowned. "I wouldn't assume I knew what was best for you."

Harry flopped down next to Ron and held out a canapé to the elf standing next to him. Runt took the food and ate it. Hermione appreciated Harry's subtle understanding of her new world. Compromises were the name of the game.

"So, the elves will eat food in front of us." Ron rolled his eyes. "You still own them. How is that okay with you?"

"They are members of this family, members of my family." Hermione raised her chin. "We've accepted each other. They need the stability of a family as much as I do. I understand them better now."

"You're hardly a Malfoy." Ron snorted loudly. "Those blond bastards probably care more about the elves."

"My husband and his heir treat me with respect." Hermione looked steadily at Ron. "They would never try to force me to conform to their ideals. For all your bluster, you can not say that. I'm free to do as I please. I just don't feel the need to please you. Sorry."

"Hermione!" Ginny stood up and glared at her. "How can you talk to Ron like that? He's your friend. Lucius Malfoy has done something to you. He must have imperiused you."

"Are you suggesting that a member of my family has broken the law?" Hermione tilted her head and considered Ginny for a moment. She was pretty and stylish. Her hair swung long and loose down her back. She had survived the war and become the darling of the press. "Perhaps, you didn't realize that the Malfoy family is both ancient and noble. If you are accusing my husband of a crime in his own home, we have the right to demand proof or satisfaction. Are you able to provide either?"

"Hermione." Harry sounded tired as he rose to his feet.

"Scan me, Harry." Hermione raised her chin and waited.

Harry sighed and flicked his wand at her. The warm flush of his magic wrapped around her. It was comfortable and familiar.

"Your clean, Hermione." Harry smiled and shook his head. "I didn't need the scan to know that. Ginny is just trying to protect you."

"She owes my husband an apology at the very least." Hermione met the bright green gaze of her best friend. "She doesn't have to like him, but I will use the law to defend my family if I must."

"These people are not your family." Ron sprang to his feet. "Look at yourself, lording it over elven slaves, defending death eaters, and threatening your friends. That's not you."

She flicked her fingers, and Ron's voice failed. She watched him purple, smirking at his anger. It felt good to stand up for herself.

"I am married to Lucius Malfoy." Hermione stalked in a wide circle around her friends. "This is my home. He and his son are my family. These elves are my companions. They are not slaves."

"Hermione, they're concerned for you." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I know you're finding your place here. I get it, but they don't."

"This isn't the first time. Bill sniffed me. Arthur checked me for bruises. Charlie had to restrain both of them." She rolled her eyes. "I love you all, but I am capable of caring for myself. I was dying. The lot of you started thinking of me as less, but I am not diminished. I am still the witch that saved your bloody lives over and over again."

"We know." Harry sighed and smiled ever so slightly.

"Then she apologizes, and you all leave because this is my place. I don't feel much like having tea with people that still see me as lesser. I will not have my husband insulted when it is through his strength that I live." She looked directly at Ginny. "I'm waiting."

"I almost died because of him." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "And you expect me to apologize? You should have let yourself go. You should have died. Now, you're his whore and something no better than that damnable diary."

Hermione stepped back from the vicious snarl that changed Ginny's face into something frightening and fierce. Ron watched his sister warily, but he made no move to stop her.

"Ginny." Harry grabbed her arm. "We should leave. I'm sorry, Hermione. I won't bring them back."

"They won't make it through the wards if they try." Hermione looked at Ron and saw the guilt in his eyes. He'd made his choice. "I hope you both are very happy. I mean that. I want the best for you, Ron. I'm sorry that you were hurt, Ginny. I'm sorry that we've gotten to this place. I understand. I will not allow you here until she offers us a true apology."

"I'll be back, Hermione." Harry tried to smile once more and failed. They both knew the difficulties lying in wait for him.

"Soon." Hermione stepped back and the elves carted her friends away in quick flashes of power. She didn't collapse. She didn't let herself descend into depression. She sat down on the couch and tried to find solace in the only place it had ever truly been. A book.

* * *

Lucius felt a stab of rage and flinched. It wasn't his emotion. It was hers, and it was fierce. He took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly, centered himself, and followed the pull of the bond. He slid in to the library through a secret door and headed to the railing.

He watched as Hermione defended him and felt a swell of guilt. He'd done nothing to make her welcome, nothing to help her find her place, but she stood there defending him to her friends. He felt the pain surging in her as they were whisked away, and then it was gone. She'd managed to block her emotions from him as soon as her control returned.

He'd thought their bond was weak. He'd assumed it was enough to keep them both alive and perhaps a little more. He'd even blamed her lack of pure blood. It had been easy to fall back on old prejudices to keep the reality of it all at bay.

He knew better now.

She was allowing him privacy while he bombarded her with his emotions. Gods, she must be exhausted. The sheer force of will required for such an act humbled him.

He'd moved her into the house like a pet. Avoiding her had seemed perfectly natural. Allowing her friends to come here had been an act of tolerance. Everything he'd given her had been on sufferance. He leaned back against a bookcase and grasped a shelf with his hands.

Severus had been right about him. He'd looked up at him, a lowly second year to his own fifth, and used the words that had cemented their friendship. Lucius imagined Severus would hold him in even less esteem on this day. He slid down to the floor. The assessment that had so amused him had been spot on.

He was a prat, an utter prat.

Apparently, he always had been.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note_**

 _Turns out travel and sickness aren't conducive to my muse. I have several stories stacked up awaiting updates. I swear they are coming._


	4. Chapter 4

Draco frowned as he stepped into his father's study. The usual immaculate interior was mussed beyond recognition. Every flat surface was covered in a variety of glossy card stock and decoratively marked paper. His father was sitting at his desk sorting one large pile into several smaller ones.

"Father?" Draco hesitated to wade further into the chaos.

"Did we have a meeting, Draco?" Lucius looked up from his piles and blinked as he focused his eyes.

"No." Draco grinned. "Care to explain this new decorating scheme on which you are working?"

"I asked the elves to find some information on muggle activities." Lucius frowned as he looked around the room.

"You asked the elves?" Draco blinked a few times. He'd known insanity ran in the Black line, but he'd never expected to see it in the Malfoy side of his lineage.

"They boiled the cauldron over, I'm afraid." Lucius shook his head. "Of course, one can hardly blame them. I never imagined muggles had devised so many ways to amuse themselves."

"You asked the elves?" Draco took a deep breath.

"Did you know theres some sort of wild beast preserve not far from here?" Lucius shook his head again. "They let wild animals free to roam there and watch the creatures for amusement."

"You asked the elves?" Draco stepped over a pile of the bizarre papers and glared at his father. "You sent the elves out for this?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" Lucius stood up and planted his hands on his hips. "I am married to a muggle born witch. I have to educate myself on her entertainment needs."

"Her entertainment needs?" Draco managed not to laugh, but it was a close thing.

"I never imagined there would be so many things to do." His father looked about the room with a sadly overwhelmed and bewildered expression. "The muggle studies curriculum never hinted at all of this."

"Muggle studies seems to have got quite a bit wrong." Draco coughed into his hand. "Perhaps we should consider insisting on more frequent reviews and updates of all course work."

"I am not back on the board yet." Lucius frowned. "It could take years."

"Hermione could get on the board." Draco tilted his head to the side. "She likes causes and education. She always did enjoy telling those idiot friends of hers what to do. This is just the same, only on a grander scale when you think about it. It seems like something she might enjoy."

"This house is still in mourning." Lucius returned to his chair. "I was considering taking her out in the muggle world. I know that the old ways are less important to your generation, but I can't ignore the custom of a lifetime. It would be disrespectful to your mother's memory."

"I'm not saying you should disrespect Mum." Draco sighed and looked around for a place to sit, but there wasn't one. "I'm hoping that you start seeing Granger as an asset. She's honoring the old ways, too. That ritual the other day, it's obvious. Talk with her. Show her all these papers. It will let her get some idea of how insane you truly are. You will be sharing your lives for a very long time. I think it might be best to start as you mean to go on."

"Well, we are a bit passed that." Lucius slumped into his chair. "I've been a prat."

Draco managed not to laugh at his father's dejected confession, but he'd did feel the left corner of his mouth tick up a bit. His father wouldn't be best pleased by this loss of control. It wasn't a smile, but he was thankful his father had been staring down at his paper covered desk.

"I've kept her as a rather unwanted exotic pet. We see as little as possible of each other." Lucius picked up one of the glossy trifold pieces of card stock. "They appear to have lions. She might appreciate lions. Gryffindor that she is."

"She'd probably prefer to discuss this over tea in the library. Somehow, the notion that you are still making all the decisions seems like a bad one." Draco tilted his head. "I know the emotionalism is difficult to deal with, but Granger seems less inclined towards it."

"She's a Malfoy now."

Draco spun away from his father and paced about until the smile faded from his face. Hermione Granger was now a Malfoy, and that made all the difference in his father's mind. Astoria would laugh until she cried. He fought off another smile. He needed to focus.

"Perhaps Astoria and I should move in." Draco looked down at his feet. "It may be gauche to live in the family home before marriage, but it might help Hermione to be more comfortable with you."

"I don't need you underfoot while I'm trying to establish a working relationship with my new wife." Lucius frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Just talk to her." Draco rolled his eyes. "Tell her what's bothering you. She's not going to use it against you. She's not the type."

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath. Lucius' request for her company at dinner was quite unexpected. There had been a moment when she'd considered refusing him, but, in the end, she'd decided to give him a chance.

She'd put on a nice set of dress robes. Really, they were her only set of dress robes, but a bit of transfiguration went a long way. At least, she hoped it did.

The garden path was perfectly manicured. The roses rising around her were white with just a hint green at the tips of their petals. A few fairies were darting about adding a bit of festive light in the purple blush of late evening.

She rounded the turn and smiled as Lucius stepped down from the porch to escort her to the table. Lucius was dressed in his elegant black robes. He looked every bit the aristocratic wizard. She tried to imagine him in jeans and a jumper, but the image wouldn't form in her mind. She smiled up at him and let him tuck her hand into the bend of his arm.

"I thought you might enjoy eating out here. I set the warming charms myself, so you needn't worry about the chill." He glanced around the space. "I hope this suits."

"It's lovely." Hermione slid into the chair he held for her and smiled as he levitated it into place.

She looked at the formal place setting and understood the meaning. This was not a romantic dinner. Romance would have been informal and more casual. It was one of the peccadilloes of pureblood culture, one of many.

"I believe we need to get to know each other." Lucius looked away from her and plucked at the edge of his napkin. "I have been too lost in my grief to show you the respect you deserve."

"I am content." Hermione hid her smile by examining the delicate flowers that graced the edge of her plate. "You needn't worry about me."

"I think I must." Lucius frowned as the first course appeared on their plates. "You are my wife. It may not be what either of us wanted, but this marriage is real. Ignoring my responsibilities to you is not the act of a gentleman."

"Perhaps, we should view our relationship as a partnership." Hermione plucked up her wine glass and took a sip. The flavor was delicate and well suited the the stuffed flowers on her plate. "I want to help make this family strong again. Narcissa fought so valiantly. She was incredible. I think I owe her to help her son find himself well set in the world."

"I don't imagine Narcissa would have seen you as in her debt." Lucius smiled slightly. "She was rather relaxed for a Black."

"We are family now." Hermione locked her gaze with his. "It may be an awkward and uncomfortable thing for a while, but I think we will manage quite well."

Lucius nodded and turned his attention to his food. They ate in silence for a bit. It wasn't the comfortable silence that comes from deep understanding, but it wasn't some sprawling awkwardness. She glanced up at her companion and considered how best to go on.

"We are observing the proper year of mourning for Narcissa." Lucius shifted uneasily in his chair. "I can not go out and about in society. It simply isn't done. When the mourning period is over, we will be required to appear publicly together before you may venture out alone. I'm sorry that you can not go about on your own."

"I knew about the customs." Hermione nodded as her plate disappeared and another took its place. "The elves are actually quite good at explaining things."

Lucius blinked twice before he nodded.

"We can not go out into the magical world, but the occasional sojourn into the muggle world would be permissible." Lucius shifted in his seat again.

Hermione fought down the urge to giggle as she thought of the tale of Princess and the Pea.

"To that end, I've procured pamphlets of many attractions." Lucius looked really uncomfortable and set his silverware down. "I must confess the whole of it was overwhelming. Perhaps, after dinner, we could peruse them together and choose somethings to do."

* * *

Lucius watched as Hermione curled into the club chair in his office and scanned one of the pamphlets about a muggle river cruise. She'd been surprisingly good company during their meal. She was quick witted and vivacious. He'd enjoyed debating magical theory with her. He'd taken opposite positions to his own just to continue the conversation. It had taken him twenty minutes to realize that she'd done the same. Her keen mind was a rare gem amongst their kind. It was in some way fitting that she had become a Malfoy.

"This is a three week cruise on a muggle ship." Hermione smirked. "Three hours without magic would be a challenge for you."

"I can exist without magic if I must." Lucius rolled his eyes. "I am not a child. My magic is controlled."

"Controlled, yes." Hermione nodded. "Unused, no. I've seen you charm books to flip their own pages."

Lucius felt his cheeks warm and took a deep breath. This witch was difficult. She teased and smiled. Even when she was mocking him, she was kind at her core.

"Why don't we try something less taxing for my poor control then?" Lucius plucked up a brochure and glanced at it. He handed it to her and watched a smile spread across her face. Their was mischief in every aspect of it.

Perhaps, he'd made an error.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucius shuddered as a horde of children rushed passed him with two rather tired looking muggles chasing after them. The poor woman had tissues stuffed up her sleeve. It was practically Weasleyan.

The muggles had lured him in with their glossy papers. There was a case for wizard bating. He was quite sure. Museums were supposed to be great collections of art and antiquities. Some had sculpture gardens and walking tours. He'd thought museums were sedate places, but this institution seemed lost to chaos.

Hermione had dragged him through the colorful and loud exhibits most of the morning. She was making no effort to hide her amusement at his discomfort. It was written clearly on her honest face. She'd smirked every time he'd almost used magic to clean himself. The witch always caught him and raised an eyebrow mockingly. It was not to be borne.

He looked around at the sheer number of children. They were everywhere, so many of them. He'd known of the disparity between their populations. There were more muggles in the world. It was a simple fact. The magical population decreased with each new generation, but the muggles were not so hampered. He felt envy spark within him.

Narcissa had endured six miscarriages in their efforts to create a family. He'd held her through each one, held her and felt her hope diminish. Choosing to stop trying had saved both of their sanity.

This museum had brought up those old feelings of failure. He blinked away the memories and looked about for Hermione.

She'd managed to wander ahead. He saw her hair and noted that she was on her knees. He edged through the crowd toward her, feeling entirely too exposed without his robes. Though he wouldn't want to anything other than burn them after returning home. Half these children seemed to be plague ridden.

"Let's set you right and then we will find your mummy." Hermione smoothed the little girl's blonde hair with a gentle sweep of her hand. He watched as she concealed her magic with ease. She needed no wand to heal the little girl's skinned knee, leaving the faintest of red marks to explain the child's distress.

Her skill was remarkable.

The image of her caring for his grandchildren rose up in his mind. She would be the one to dote on them. He had no doubt she would love them fiercely. She wouldn't teach them to be perfect purebloods, but Draco could handle that. She would shower them with love and affection. Her perfect reputation would insulate them from society's cruelty.

* * *

Harry sighed as Ginny snarled about poor Hermione with someone on the floo. He hated what she was doing. Some days, he hated her as much as he loved her.

It wasn't that he didn't understand.

Malfoy had hurt Ginny.

Whether it was intentional or not hardly mattered.

She still had nightmares about her time spent as Tom Riddle's plaything. There had been enough nights spent listening to her cry after one woke her to make that very clear. No, there was no doubt about the damage done. She'd been exposed to a horcrux for a long time.

Not that that made her unique.

Ron and Hermione had spent months sharing custody of the damned locket.

He'd had one in his own head.

She'd suffered. They'd all suffered.

The problem was that she didn't see it. She never truly saw passed her own suffering.

He'd spent years seeing everyone else's suffering as more important than his own. He'd taken on the guilt for every death in the war. Watching Hermione die by inches was destroying him, but Lucius saved her.

He'd never be Harry's favorite person, but he could damn well make nice with the man.

He stood in the doorway and watched Ginny mocking Hermione for a bit before she ended her floo call. He watched as she became aware of his presence and blushed unbecomingly, her anger rampant.

"Are you going to tell me to stop talking about her?" She planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. "I believe I'm entitled to my opinion."

"I never said you weren't." Harry let his eyes follow her as she stalked about the room.

"Hermione is not some martyr to the cause. She's a flea clinging to a rat to survive. Any decent witch would have chosen death." She wasn't being merely snide. There was cruelty in her every word.

"Sometimes I wonder how much Tom warped you." Harry cocked his head. "You sit here and belittle Hermione because you don't like the choices she's made."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"But, what about your own?"

* * *

Draco glared at Astoria's friend. Apparently, the Weaslette had decided to stick her oar in in a big way. Gossip was running fast and furious, and all of it was harming his family. Because Hermione was bloody well family now.

"You shouldn't listen to that termagant." Astoria shook her head. "She's a jealous cow. You do know that Harry offered to bond with Hermione to save her. That probably irked the poor thing."

He watched on as his beloved turned the tide back toward Ginerva and made the girl out to be magically lacking with only a passing ability to fly to her credit.

"It's only a matter of time until some other witch draws his eye away from the poor dear. She doesn't have the sense to see that a married Hermione Granger Malfoy is no threat to her." Astoria tutted and took a brief sip of her tea. "Once Lucius is out of morning, I'm quite sure you will all see how well they get on. And aren't we all happy for that."

Leave it to Astoria to take defending the family to a new level. She'd praised Hermione and built her up as a threat until all the girls were praising any goddess or god that came to mind that she was off the market. He smirked.

"Aren't you worried that she'll produce another heir?" The Higgs chit blushed and looked down into her cup.

"Draco's place is secure." Astoria smiled widely. "I think a younger sibling might be just the thing. Far less pressure on us, if Lucius is distracted."

Draco considered having a curly haired, know it all sibling. It was oddly appealing. Astoria was right. His place was secure. Having another Malfoy running about would alleviate a great deal of the pressure to produce the next heir and keep his father from interfering when said heir did make an appearance. It might also make the bitter pill of life without his mother a bit easier to swallow for his father.

He rubbed his chin and considered dosing his father and Granger with lust potions. It would be risky. If they caught him, they'd take turns torturing him.

But what was life without a bit of risk? There was no need to be Gryffindor about it, planning was paramount.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucius woke up and let the peace of the morning greet him. It was his favorite time of day. He could hear the bustle of the house as the elves began their work. There was a happiness inherent to the birdsong outside his windows. He took several deep breaths releasing each in a slightly longer exhale. The air was fresh and held the barest hint of chill.

He sat up and let the sheets pool around his waist. He smiled. He'd spent years seeing only the grand gestures and the larger picture, but the war and all the events since had opened his eyes.

There was something to be said for the brush of fine cotton on bare skin. His hands trailed along his chest as he rolled his shoulders. Hedonism had its place. He stretched his arms over his head and closed his eyes, enjoying this awareness of his physical being.

A sudden pop disturbed his usual routine.

"Master, you must come." One of the elves stood in the door wringing his hands. "The Mistress, she be hurting. We can'ts help."

Lucius thought of Narcissa for a moment before his mind focused on Hermione. Mistress meant Hermione now. She was the one dragging him about to zoos and museums and restaurants. She was the one laughing at him and teasing him. She was the one that had handed him a white ferret at a pet shop and asked him to give it to Draco.

His wife was a trouble making minx if ever there was one.

"Mistress." The elf keened and shifted from foot to foot.

Lucius took a deep breath and felt for their bond. The sudden flash of pain startled him. He'd had to force the connection to get that much. She was blocking him again.

He snarled and let his magic act. There was a swirling pressure pulling him and then he was beside her in the garden. Her hands were wrist deep in the dirt as she tried to channel the flare of her magic into the ground.

He fell to his knees beside her with a gasp. She couldn't block him at such a short distance. He'd been punished by Voldemort and felt less distressed. Drawing each breath in with care and expelling it in the same way, he crawled toward Hermione.

The tears on her face were dripping into the freshly turned earth beneath her. Her body shook and still she tried to force the excess magic out.

She was a warrior. He'd known it of course. He'd seen her survive torture, seen her fling magic about on the battlefield, but this was different. This was visceral battle with herself.

"You needs to be making bond stronger." One of the elves waved her long fingered hands at him impatiently.

"I'll be fine in a moment." Hermione bit her lip until he could see blood joining her tears in the dirt.

"No, you won't." Lucius stroked a hand down her back.

Her magic rose up and enveloped him. He could feel it tightening around him seeking some purchase. Their bond flared up inside him. There was a brief moment when the world around him seemed to breathe on its own. Something primal and demanding flared within him. He didn't give a damn if his life ended, but this witch needed to live.

She brought good things into the world.

He felt her body shake and gathered her close. Time was running short. He needed to strengthen their bond. He looked around them. The gardens were banked back. She'd spent weeks honing her skills and learning from Longbottom. She wanted to do it. She wanted to feed her magic into the land and enrich it and his family over time.

She brought good things into the world.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. Her sweat slick skin was hot to the touch as her magic pushed her body towards its limits. He slid his hand down her body and rested it just below her belly button. The spell was there on the tip of his tongue. He could feel the power of it.

Goddess.

She brought good things into the world.

He did not. The simple words stalled on his tongue. Doubt, a lifetime of it, assailed him. It was the true curse of his line. Darkness wasn't a curse, but the faltering belief that plagued his family was. He had always believed that faith failed him, but it had not. He was the epitome of his line, powerful and driven. Malfoys succeeded where others failed because they were strong. They failed because they did not trust in magic. The house of bad faith was a palace built on quicksand.

Her body quaked in his arms. His wife. His friend. His Hermione. She poured her magic into their land, into their future, and into his very soul. She put her trust in him and gifted his line with her indelible faith.

She brought good things into the world, and it was high time he trusted in that which magic had gifted him.

The spell spilled from his lips and he felt the heat of it flare in his fingers. There was no doubt in him as he stripped her nightdress away. Love and faith swelled within him as she responded to his touch.

In the violence of his grief, she had gifted him with her kindness, her understanding, her forgiveness. He had only seen a chance to protect his son, to honor his first love's dying wish. He hadn't seen the truth of this second chance.

It was his turn to bring good into the world.

Their lips met and his magic burst out in a storm of light. He felt hers rise up with his, felt their magic mingle and flow together. They were held safe in its embrace as their magic swirled about. Even as he caressed Hermione's skin, he felt the sentient presence of their power. It was waiting.

The witch in his arms writhed as he pushed her body toward ecstasy. He pressed her into the rich earth as she wrapped her legs around him. Her nails scored his chest as she begged incoherently for something.

Lucius, bringer of light, an ironic name gifted to a dark wizard. He'd been trained in power, taught to hoard and control it. He'd never faltered in his devotion to those principles. Even as the world changed and ripped away all he had loved, he had held tight to his power.

"Forgive me." He prayed, knowing his fate hung in the balance. "I have been a fool."

Hermione looked up at him, her hair haloed around her head. The smudges of earth on her skin were alluring, the shape and breadth of his grasp was clearly drawn on her skin in its traces. The first magic users had known what had eluded him. They'd spilled their blood and their seed into the world with faith.

His wife looked up at him with her glorious eyes shining like phoenix flame as the power coursed through her. This was what he was meant to protect. This was sacred.

"Lucius." Hermione reached up to him with her hand.

He grasped it and joined their bodies together with a quick thrust of his hips. They rolled and twisted and writhed together. He felt her breaking apart and poured himself, his magic, his soul, his life into her. Emotions swamped him. He felt their magic burn and grow as it became one force. He knew her thoughts as scattered as they were. He peppered little kisses along her neck as she stroked his back.

Power soared around them, still growing. He felt it pulsing in rhythm with their hearts and the land. The sharp flare of completion ripped through him again as his magic returned, stronger and purer than ever it had been.

The urge to hoard this blessing rose up in him. He swallowed it down. Ignoring the panic, he let his magic flow out of him again.

Power flared bright and true within him. It was hers, commingled with his. He would face this again. It was the curse of his line, but, with her beside him, he would find his way.

Their bond burst forth, reformed into a shining, glorious thing. Where once there were two, one rose. One purpose. One flame. The magic held them teetering at the edge of ecstasy as it spilled through them into the earth and back again. It seemed to be growing with each wild surge until he lost the ability to hold on to his thoughts. The flare of completion dragged them up and cast them down, but he felt no grief. Their magic raced around them and found its place once more within their flesh.

As the magic released him, he fell to the side, his limbs still entwined with hers. His lungs burned as he dragged great, gulping breaths into his body. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a profusion of color. Daffodils bloomed all around them. Some were still rising from the ground. Tender green stems topped in vibrant yellow and lustrous white. He felt their petals brush against his bare skin, the ghost of a familiar touch, a final benediction from his first love as he gathered his new love closer in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Astoria smiled as Draco escorted her in to his family home. She didn't want to take the reins of the giant estate just yet. It was a heavy responsibility, and she enjoyed being frivolous. Draco had missed out on the joys of youth. He didn't need the weight of being the Malfoy settling on his shoulders.

"Why are there flowers everywhere?" Astoria looked around at the pots of flowering plants that were shoved into the marble entry hall.

"Mipsy." Draco called out for one of the elves and smiled at the sudden pop of her arrival. "What's going on here?"

"Master and Mistress be expanding the conservatory." Mipsy's ears were tinged pink. "They gets distracted a lot, and then there be more flowers, lots mores."

"They're studying herbology." Draco blinked. "That's a new one."

"Well, you wanted your father to be kept busy." Astoria watched as Draco looked at the flowers and smiled. He really was adorably clueless. If he had paid attention to his elf, he would know the flowers were merely a byproduct. She watched him fiddle with the vials in his pocket. "I think you should see what develops naturally."

Draco nodded as three elves came in carrying a potted lime tree rife with flowers. Astoria hid her smile by sniffing at the bird of paradise blooming beside her. It was a delight see Draco so baffled.

"Is dinner to be served soon?" Draco shifted his weight onto his heels as an orange tree joined the lime.

"Yes, Master Draco." Mipsy nodded quickly. "We is serving it ons time."

* * *

"Draco and Astoria are coming for dinner." Hermione panted as Lucius pressed her into the silk bedding.

"It would be best not to mention him at these moments." Lucius nipped her ear and then suckled it to relieve the sting. "If you can't restrain this urge to chatter about our assorted annoying relations and responsibilities, I may have to keep my tongue in your mouth until you learn."

Hermione ran her tongue along his shoulder. His flesh was warm and damp with their exertions. She reveled in the salty tang of it on her palette.

"See that's a much better use of your tongue." Lucius nibbled his way down her neck to her collarbone. "I want to hear you babble again. I want you moaning and crying, inarticulate and begging. I want to push you into the tempest and through the storm until all you can do is cling to me."

Hermione managed not to remind him that he'd done that already. Many times. She whimpered as he rocked against her again. Her magic rose and flowed with his. It danced around the room in their own personal aurora.

* * *

"At least, these aren't flowering." Draco looked at the lush ferns trailing down their stands. "Father never cared much for the gardens. This is all decidedly odd."

"You just want your dinner." Astoria rolled her eyes. "They'll be along soon. Then, you don't have to fret."

"Potter will throw a fit if he thinks Father is mistreating Granger." He picked up one of the fern fronds and smiled as it wrapped around his finger. "Affectionate foliage. Charming."

"I find it quite appealing." Astoria came up behind him and pinched his bum. "Stop worrying. I think things might work out quite a bit better than you ever imagined."

"I'm going to go find my father." Draco shrugged off the adoring fern and turned towards the door. "What if they were dueling or doing something else foolish? Father needs to remember she's more than a nuisance."

Draco ignored Astoria's protests and ran up the stairs. There was something going on, and he needed to know what it was before things went very, very wrong.

He turned down the hall toward the family wing and slowed down. He couldn't be the voice of reason if he was flustered or out of sorts. Astoria didn't understand how difficult life could be with Lucius Malfoy.

His father's door was standing open. The room was bare. He felt his heart begin to pound triple time in his chest. All the bits of personal paraphernalia were missing.

"Why the hell did he change rooms?" Draco turned out into the hall and drew his wand. He fixed thoughts of his father firmly in his mind. "Point me."

His wand tugged to the left.

* * *

Astoria sat down in the library. She'd never been one to lose herself in scholarly pursuits, but she knew people. She studied the way they worked. Magic was chaotic and though it could be predicted, it would at times fill your home with potted plants.

Understanding the people around you was actually quite a bit simpler, and vastly less dangerous. Especially, when dealing with her family. Lucius, Hermione, and Draco could make people shudder just with a glare. It was up to her to be the human face of this family. The magical one was too damn intimidating.

Though, Draco was sure to amuse and delight her in a few minutes. She grinned and picked up a book on the table next to her chair. Glancing through it, she shook her head and promptly returned it to the table.

* * *

Draco followed his wand to one of the older master suites. His mother had hated these rooms because they caught the morning light. She had not been one for birdsong and morning dew.

His father had relocated. Draco blinked as he considered what it meant. Lucius might be more deeply caught in the quagmire of grief than he thought if the man was avoiding memories of Narcissa.

Draco raised his hand to knock and heard a feminine scream. He was transported back to that place. She was writhing on the ground while he watched on, a failure. He'd been incapable of helping her, but this time….

He was through the door before he had finished the thought.

He saw her, saw his father, saw her and his father, and screamed.

* * *

Astoria smiled as she heard Draco screeching like a little girl. It echoed through the halls. Her poor darling. She'd told him the lust potions were unnecessary.

* * *

Dinner was a strained affair. Draco was caught in a continual blush. He couldn't look at his father or Granger without seeing that again. His father pressed into her with his back arched as she panted beneath him and keened her pleasure to the world. An obliviation might be the best thing. He pushed his peas about on the plate.

"So, you're expanding the conservatory." Draco pushed the words out before he realized why they were doing it. "Considering the pineapples growing along the hallway, will it be enough?"

Granger blushed, and he felt a brief flare of satisfaction at her embarrassment.

"I suppose we could donate some of the excess to Hogwarts." His father met Granger's eyes and smiled gently at her. "Some of the plants are rather unique."

"I'll contact Minerva." Hermione nodded. "Pomona will be thrilled."

"Good work, Father." Draco smirked. "Look how many women you can please whilst enjoying yourself."

The table went silent. Astoria stared at him with her anger easy to read. Granger placed her utensils down and sucked in a deep breath.

He knew it was rude. He knew it was wrong. He even knew it was hypocritical. He had wanted them to do this, but he couldn't stop thinking of his mother.

"Join me." The scrape of his father's chair on the floor was deafening in the quiet room. "Now."

Draco rose and followed as his father stepped out into the hall. The doors closed with a click as he passed through them. The muffliato fell around them, and he looked up to see his father's face. The remote and icy glare was reminiscent of his father before the war had beaten him down. His mask might have been a welcome relief.

"I do understand, Draco. It is a shock to discover your parent in such a state of deshabille." Lucius began to pace. "I understand that it is particularly difficult because Hermione is not your mother; however, she is my wife."

"Do you love her?" Draco watched his father closely, noting the slight hitch in his stride.

"I care for her." His father stopped and examined one of the flowers. "I will not lose her. She is a part of me. I was so lost in my grief. She rescued me after everything. After the war, after what I allowed to happen to her here in this house, she married me. I saw her only as a means to an end. I hurt her, but she took her place in our family to her heart. She worked to improve our lot."

"She's always been remarkable." Draco sighed. "I thought I wanted this. I had plans to encourage you both."

"I still miss your mother, Draco. I always will." Lucius stopped his pacing and closed his eye. "She was everything to me. She enjoyed our life, and taught me that there were things beyond duty. She was perfection always. When she died, I was broken. I wanted the death that was stalking me, but I had given my word."

"I brought Granger to you." Draco flushed. "I shouldn't fuss about it now. I'm glad you're alive."

"I find that I am glad to be alive as well." Lucius smirked.

"Yeah, I saw." Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger is my step mother. It's definitely something I am not likely to forget."

"Try to be careful of her emotions. I understand you have some issues to work through, but she deserves better from you that your crass comments at the table." Lucius smiled tightly. "She is also most probably pregnant. If you aren't careful, she might turn you into a pineapple."

Draco flushed as his father wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

He'd wanted a sibling.

"Oh, and one more thing." Lucius smiled widely. "I do not need your lust potions. I am quite capable of seeing to my wife without them. do I need to remind you that the wards are designed to protect us from such things?"

Draco frowned as his father pushed him toward the dining room doors. He wasn't ready to beg forgiveness, but his choices were slim. He didn't feel much like having Granger toss pineapples at his head.


	8. Chapter 8

Pomona Sprout looked at the grand estate before her. Her family had never been grand enough to merit an invitation, so she'd never laid eyes on it before. It stood, tall and imposing in a wild wash of color. She'd been expecting the greens and browns of late autumn.

"It didn't look like this two weeks ago." Neville Longbottom stilled beside her. "What happened?"

"Magic." Pomona smirked. She was familiar with blooming magic. Not on this scale, but most witches and wizards didn't have the power to spark this kind of response from the land. "You mentioned that Hermione was taking her responsibilities to the land very seriously."

"I work the land at home." He swung his arm widely. "I've never gotten this kind of response."

Pomona looked at her companion and considered him carefully. He was old enough to understand that sex and procreation were intimately linked to magic. He was a quick study, so this willing blindness might be related to his opinions of the persons involved.

"They were married fairly recently." Pomona waited a moment to let her words sink in. She watched him shudder as the scales fell from his eyes. "Don't let your friend see that."

"I understand that she had to bind herself to him to survive..." Longbottom looked down at the crushed rock beneath his feet. "It's Malfoy."

"Hermione is a Malfoy now." Pomona touched his arm gently. "The war has been over. Couples like Lucius and Hermione will do more to keep the peace than you imagine. This kind of fecundity will have half the pureblood families drooling with jealousy. Try to see this as a precious seedling."

"A seedling?" The tall man frowned.

"This is the first sign that the garden of our society has survived. With proper tending, it will mature into something magnificent."

"But Malfoy..." Neville shifted his weight.

"Devil's snare and venomous tentacula are not the only poisonous plant you tend." Pomona smirked. "Some of our finest potion ingredients are derived from plants that are incredibly dangerous."

"So, Malfoy is a poisonous plant?" He chuckled. "Is Hermione creating some sort of hybrid?"

"She isn't exactly sweet grass, Neville." The older witch giggled. "Whatever is at work here needs to be respected."

He nodded. She knew the war had scarred him deeply. He'd lost his parents to it, and still managed to grow strong through it. She waited as he considered. The warmth of the sun on their shoulders was a comfort. She saw acceptance in his eyes.

* * *

Astoria took a sip of her tea as her sister chatted amiably beside her. She scanned the crowd around them and spotted Ginny Weasley barreling about with Pansy Parkinson. They seemed oddly well suited. She braces herself for the coming scene and tapped the table to draw Daphne's attention to their situation.

Their mother had raised them to help understand the subtlety of warfare among society witches. It was quite obvious that neither the Weasley nor the Parkinson matriarchs had attempted the same. Astoria set her cup down and looked over the table. A delicious array of petit fours still remained. The tea pot was charmed to keep the orchid oolong warm and flowing for their stay.

"It's the little things." Daphne murmured in a perfect imitation of their mother.

"Never fail to present a kind face and gentle courtesy." Astoria looked at her sister and smiled. "This should be amusing."

"Astoria, Daphne!" Pansy waves and took the lead. Ginny Weasley followed along. "It's been ages."

"We have been rather busy." Daphne shrugged. "Would you like to catch up? Your friend is welcome as well."

"Oh, what was I thinking?" Pansy tittered. "Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, this is Ginny Weasley. She plays for the Harpies."

"How delightful." Astoria smiled. "Draco is quite quidditch mad. I would love to know something he doesn't. How do you think the Harpies will do this season?"

Astoria nodded along as Ginny launched into a subject dear to her heart. She poured the tea and made sure both of their guests had full plates while enjoying Pansy's mounting frustration. Daphne met her eyes as they both sipped their tea. The amusement in her sister's gaze made all of this worth it.

"Draco must be enraged." Pansy broke into the quidditch stream. "I can't imagine he cares a jot about quidditch with his father acting like a madman."

"Lucius?" Daphne raised a single brow. "A madman?"

"Well, how else are we to explain his sudden bout of generosity?" Pansy raised her voice and flipped her hair back. "Two new greenhouses for Hogwarts and all the stock for them?"

"It's three." Astoria smiled. "I believe he's contributing to some plants to the Royal Greenhouses at Laeken and some hardier plants to Kew Gardens."

"Hardier?" Pansy blinked.

"The plants native to our lovely island, Pans." Daphne patted her hand gently. "They don't need the pampering the tropical ones do."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Ginny sat back in her chair. "He's spending Malfoy money. He's stealing from your children."

"My children will be well cared for, I assure you." Astoria blushed with the help of a wandless charm. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't spend indiscriminately, but if he did, it would take him centuries to burn through the family vaults. Of course, he's paying for these botanical investments from his private accounts."

"He's also funding three new apprentices For Professor Sprout." Daphne smiled. "It's quite a coup for the school."

"Hermione Granger is behind this." Ginny snorted. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't have a generous bone in his body."

"Hermione Malfoy." Astoria tilted her head to the side and examined the Weasley witch. "She is quite powerful. When they have observed his period of mourning for Narcissa, she will be a force with which to be reckoned. Imagine her mind and Lucius' rather endless financial means. It will be a delight to see what she accomplishes."

Pansy paled as the threat of a powerful witch with political and financial means was put at the forefront of her imagination. There had always been the rumors. Those that hurt her friends suffered. The truth was far more frightening.

Hermione didn't have to hex people. She played psychological games until those supposed victims felt every problem in their lives was caused by her. It was delicious to observe. The proprietary hand on Longbottom's shoulder and the raised eyebrow at Goyle had seen the fool jumping at shadows for months. It would be fun watching her move in society.

Of course, Ginny Weasley's jealousy needed to be dealt with quickly. The witch was headed for disaster. Smart enough to throw Pansy on the pyre, but not quite aware enough of how close to the flames she was dancing all of her own. Potter's attentions wouldn't protect her forever, and she didn't have the social training to grasp the warning they'd just offered. It really was a shame.

* * *

Draco sat next to Potter as they watched the Arrows play the Magpies. It was a preseason match, but it was still exciting. He'd planned to bring Blaise, but his step mother had managed to convince him to bring Potter as a sign of good will.

"She does that." Potter smirked. "You'll get used to it."

"What?" Draco blinked at the dark haired wizard.

"Hermione." Potter shrugged. "She got you to do something, and you're trying to figure out how. We've all been there. George Weasley swears it's all in our heads, but he falls for it, too."

"How do you handle it?" Draco took a deep breath. Asking for anything from Potter was difficult, but the man might be able to help.

"I buy extra tickets to events and read everything she says I should. It seems to appease her." Harry shrugged. "When Krum comes to town, we play pick up quidditch, and she watches without a book. It makes us feel like we're not dancing to her tune."

"So, there's nothing?" Draco sighed.

"Well, we can always use more players for the pick up game." Harry smacked his shoulder. "Maybe Lucius will figure something out."

* * *

Lucius stared at the door before him. He hadn't seen it in years. It had been in a different hall then across from a separate suite of rooms. Memories assaulted him. Narcissa already round with child, the babies they had lost, the amount of times the door simply hadn't opened.

Fear of losing another precious life gripped him. The anguish of loving lives that never were surged through him pushing each horrible moment up to the forefront of his mind. Memories of Narcissa's heartbroken rages blurred into images of Hermione screaming and writhing in pain.

"Hecate, help me." He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to the wood of the nursery door. Words tumbled from his lips without thought. He offered his body and his soul to magic again as he had the day he made Hermione his.

"Lucius." Hermione was suddenly there. Her hand on his shoulder. The warmth of her surrounding him as he turned and pressed his tear stained face into her abdomen.

"I love you." He gasped the words against her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She buried her fingers in his hair and let her magic roll over him. "I do."

"I could lose you." He whispered.

"There are no guarantees, Lucius." She slid down to her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist. "We must have faith."

He felt the power crackling through her hair as she fitted her head under his chin. It flickered and lit around him, but it never burned or shocked him. Her power fluttered around him and settled on his skin like kisses.

"The healer is coming in two days." She pulled at his shirt. "He will tell you this little Malfoy will be fine."

Lucius dragged on a deep breath and let her words soothe him. He knew she was talking of the child growing inside her body, but he needed both of them to survive and thrive. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged them both gently across the carpet until his back hit the wall.

"I saw that door for the first time two months after I married Narcissa. The house changes around from time to time, but that is a special door." Lucius nodded toward the silvery wood of the nursery door. "I don't know if you can see the difference. Narcissa never did. My mother said she didn't even notice the door until she was days from having me."

"I can see it." Hermione pressed a kiss against his jaw. "There's a sheen to the wood."

"Yes, that's a good description." Lucius sighed. "You've concentrated on binding yourself to the family magic. I suppose it makes a difference."

"I've never really belonged anywhere." She chewed her lower lip. "I scared my parents. They loved me, but I could see it every once in a while, the fear and anxiety. I was too different for their world and too much a part of it for this one. I've always wanted to belong somewhere."

He watched his witch as she struggled and felt the weight of his son's settle more firmly on his shoulders. He had been part of the reason she'd felt so isolated, so alone. He felt the doubts and the fears clawing at him again. He didn't deserve this life, but she did.

"You belong here." He pulled her closer. He didn't want to drag this conversation further into the maudlin. "I never expected to love any witch other than Narcissa, but

I do love you."

"I didn't think much beyond saving both our lives when we bonded, but I am happy we've found a way to make something of this." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "Tell me about the door."

"It leads into the nursery. It won't open unless our family magic is sure the child will take up residence." He shuddered at the memories of trying to open it again and again. "I've watched it appear several times, but it only opened for Draco. His nursery was tasteful. There were shelves with toys and a training broom with one painted dragon watching over the dark wood furnishings from the mural."

"So, it isn't a bad thing." She stroked his cheek. "Your magic, our magic is joining us in the anticipation."

She flung herself from his embrace and bounded across the hall. She didn't hesitate when she turned the handle. He blinked and pushed himself up along the wall as the door opened.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note**_

 _Another update? My muse seems to be running wild. Thank you for being so patient and so giving with your encouragement. It makes a real difference. I'm working on several stories right now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter._

 _What do you think the nursery should look like? I've got it clear in my imagination, but I would love to know what you see in your mind's eye._

 _-Anna_


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